


to know, to err, to love (maybe)

by madness_and_smiles



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: M/M, Spoilers, a brief panic attack, season finale spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 01:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10651710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madness_and_smiles/pseuds/madness_and_smiles
Summary: There is a world where Ray Palmer doesn't know who Mick Rory is. There is a world where Mick Rory destroyed everything. And there is a world where they can avoid it all.It's what the finale didn't show you.





	to know, to err, to love (maybe)

**Author's Note:**

> can you fucking believe im here

The days went like this.

Wake up.

Coffee.

Run.

Work.

(Mop. Sigh. Take out the trash. Coffee. Polish. Sigh again. One final mop.)

Home.

Frozen Dinner.

Microwave

Hot Dinner.

Video Games.

Bed.

And it didn’t look like it was ever going to end.

And he couldn’t even scream.

But right now.

Right now Ray was warm and comfortable. He was warm and comfortable and he dreamed. He dreamed about impossibilities and large sharp teeth and gleaming swords, pistols at dawn and outer space, and faces he couldn’t quite recognize but were deeply familiar all the same. And he was happy. And he was at peace. And he was loved. And…

And at 5:45 AM his alarm went off, and Ray was violently ripped from those dreams and thrust back into the real world. The shitty, shitty real world.

Another miserable day.

“Fff…” He couldn’t even get the full word out as he desperately grabbed his phone to just get the noise to stop. He rubbed his eyes, willing them to stay open a little easier, and then cast a glance at the rat cage in the corner. “Mornings. Am I right, Tesla?”

Tesla, as usual, only answered with a soft squeak, but it brought a smile to Ray’s face all the same. He’d only gotten the little guy to do some, like, basic experiments with (what those experiments were, he had no idea), but he must be one of those therapy rats or something, because the sight of his tiny little paws and his cute little nose always made Ray feel better. Like they were old friends somehow.

And Ray had a lot of times were he needed to feel better.

“I know, I know.” Ray sat up, stretched, and forced himself to stand, limbs still tingly with sleep. “That’s life, little dude. But at least we have each other. Now, let’s get you some breakfast.”

Ray rubbed at his eyes again while his coffee brewed, and wished he could figure out why he felt so god damn tired all the time. He must be getting sick or something – it’s like there was a fog permanently hanging over him. Someone with vacation days might take time off to figure it out, and someone with friends might ask for help, but… Ray really had neither. He was alone in the city except for Tesla, and poor as a church mouse to boot. So all he could do was keep pushing through, and hope that one day it would all get better. He was sure it had to.

Right? Wasn’t that how life worked?

“I’ll be home tonight, buddy,” Ray told the rat, “try not to miss me too much, kay?”

Tesla squeaked, and Ray walked out the door, and wished immediately he could just turn around and go back in.

Most of the employees arrived at S.T.A.R. Laboratories at 9:00 AM, but Ray and the rest of the janitorial staff had to get there at 7:30 to make sure any repair requests put in by a late-night worker were taken care of by the start of the work day. It was unpleasant, yeah. But it left just enough time for a jog from Ray’s basement apartment to the Labs, ending with a shower in the gym he technically didn’t have clearance to use.

“One of these days, Palmer, you’re going to get caught.” That was Aaron, head of Tech Maintenance. A brainy guy, unlike Ray who just got to do basic cleanup.

“S’alright, man, I mean, even if I did get found out, I’d just…” Ray trailed off. He’d what? He had a weird urge to say he’d just pardon himself… as if _he_ was the head of a company, instead of Eobard Thawne, who would most definitely fire his dumb ass. But how could Ray explain that he got some perverse pleasure from the idea of one-upping a boss who he’d never even spoken to? Or that some part of him deep down knew that it wasn’t Thawne who was supposed to be in charge of him? “Well, it’d be fine. I think. I’d deal with it.

“Why do you even need to run that much? Isn’t it like five miles from your place?”

“Six and a half.” Ray shrugged, already making his way to the executive-level gym. “I don’t know. It’s always good to be in shape, right? Never know when you’re gonna have to…” There it was again. That fog. Have to what? What disaster was a guy like Ray supposed to deal with besides clogged toilets? He shook his head. “Fight some zombies?”

Aaron laughed and slapped Ray on the back.

“Crazy Ray Palmer, you know that’s what the guys all call you?” Ray did know. He didn’t like it. But it was fine. “You been playing too many video games. Never change.”

“Hah… I guess I won’t.” Ray shrugged. No matter how much he’d like to… this is where he was stuck at. At least he got a regular paycheck. “Um, you know, if your team needs any extra help today… I’d be happy to…” Ray started, but the smile dropped from Aaron’s face pretty quick after that.

“Thanks, buddy, but we all know what happened the last time you tried to help us.”

Ray nodded, his face flushing with the memory. Everything had been going fine – it was just some basic rewiring in the new lab space – and then suddenly Ray’s mind had gone completely blank. It was like he’d known exactly what to do… until he hadn’t anymore, and he could barely even move he was so paralyzed with the loss of the knowledge. And then he’d accidentally started a small electrical fire.

So he knew, _he knew_ , he should just stay out of it… but still, at the end of the day, he’d wanted so bad to just do something different. To be a different man.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Wouldn’t want to burn down the building this time.” Ray tried to smile. “Right, well… I’ll catch you later, then. Bye, Aaron.”

“Take care of yourself, Ray.”

Ray was sure everyone hated their job, but somehow it felt like he hated his even more. Like it was specifically picked out just to torture him. And the worst part was he didn’t know why he didn’t just quit. He came back day after day for the same old shit, and every time it seemed like he might move forward he fucked it up again.

And that’s why he was going to use the executive gym shower. Because he had earned it.

He beat out a hasty retreat from that conversation with Aaron with his tail between his legs and his mind screaming at him that he was a huge idiot, and that’s probably why he didn’t notice that the lights in the hallway to the gym were already on. That’s probably why he didn’t hear the clink of weights going up and down until it was too late to turn around. That’s probably why Ray found himself in the gym staring at someone… someone… he had never seen before?

The man was staring back, still mid-rep with his free weights, but clearly strong enough that his muscles could handle the strain. And he had a lot of muscles. Ray swallowed.

“Um…” Was all Ray could say as he continued to stare, and the man continued not to move. “Um… I’m just… the janitor… checking on the... mess. Yup.”

This was bad. He wasn’t in his janitor uniform besides that dumb hat, he was still sweaty from his run, the executive gym got a thorough cleaning every night so there wasn’t going to be a mess at 7:45 in the morning, and to top it all off he was a second away from asking this guy if he just wanted to jump in the shower with him. Which was insane. Ray didn’t do things like that. He wasn’t that guy.

“Oh fuck. You weren’t supposed to see me,” the man finally grumbled, dropping the weight and standing up suddenly. His voice was rougher than anything Ray could have imagined and yet somehow exactly what he wanted to hear.

Ray still didn’t move. He didn’t know where he’d seen this guy before – bald, tall… a little angry looking though whether that was the situation or just his usual expression Ray didn’t know (though he had a strong guess), strong and, well, super hot, and…

Wait, what did that guy just say?

“You’re not supposed to be here either? Oh thank God.” Ray let out a sigh of relief, and the way the man rolled his eyes back at him was so deeply familiar it made him want to scream.

“That wasn’t what I said, Haircut. Christ, are you bad at this.” The words were stern, but the man had the smallest hint of a smile on his face, which made Ray turn red all over.

“You can’t see my hair, I’m wearing a hat,” Ray said dumbly, unable to come up with any other response. Sometime during the conversation he and the stranger had both drifted closer to each other. Trying not to stare at his biceps but staring at them all the same, something in Ray’s brain kept saying _wrong wrong wrong._

This just wasn’t right… he didn’t react like this. Sure, there were people who caught his eye sometimes, but this… It’s like Ray was just waiting for this complete and total stranger to sweep him up in his arms and kiss him hard. And it was starting to freak him out a little.

“Yeah, you’re wearing a _janitor_ hat. Because you’re a janitor who’s here to clean up a mess. Right?” The stranger looked tired suddenly, and Ray wondered if he was sleeping well. He had a feeling that this was a man who was often up in the middle of the night. He could relate.

Why were they suddenly closer again? Why were Ray’s legs just moving on their own? They weren’t supposed to do that, dammit. But this close Ray could see stubble on the stranger’s face, and the individual drops of sweat tracing down his arms. This close he could feel the ease the stranger’s presence brought him. Like when he was asleep, or talking to his rat. Like the fog was lifting just a little bit.

Could this guy feel it, too?

“Ah-huh. I’m just a janitor. And you’re a guy who I wasn’t supposed to see?” Ray offered, and the man nodded slowly, still staring at him.

“Yup. You’re going to forget all about this.” Maybe it was supposed to be a threat, but it came off like a plea, or maybe a sigh, causing Ray to inhale sharply. Which is probably why he said what he said next. Too much air to the brain.

“Will I? Are you sure about that?”

He was being bold, he was being too bold, and the stranger’s stare told him that. Intense. Hot. Penetrating. Ray wasn’t sure if he had said exactly the right thing or exactly the wrong thing, but he couldn’t look away, couldn’t back down. Whatever weird thing was going on between them just had to run its course, even if it got him fired.

“I’m…” the stranger lifted his hand slightly and held it there, as if he wanted to reach out and touch, and Ray had no idea what he was going to say next, what word was on the tip of his tongue, but he knew it was important. He could feel it. His heart was pounding like a war drum and somehow at this exact moment he could feel everything around him and he knew… he knew…

Then the man’s cell phone rang. And rang. And rang.

And then the spell broke. Then the stranger looked away, and answered his phone.

“What do you want?”

Ray tried to turn around to give the guy some privacy and almost fell down, his legs weak with relief. What the hell had that been? Where was that going if the phone hadn’t rang? His heart was beating so hard he could hear it in his ears, and he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands or his body or his brain or…

Ray heard the sound of footsteps getting farther away, the whoosh of a door, and the stranger was gone. He was alone. Not even a goodbye.

Okay.

Ray took a breath.

It was fine.

Ray took another breath.

That was super fucking weird. But it was fine.

He was just tired. Overworked. Under sexed. A cold shower would do him right.

But despite finally being able to take his shower, Ray couldn’t stop the feeling of disappointment in his gut. Just like ruining the wiring that one time, he felt like he’d just missed out on an opportunity to get out of this life. Like fate kept reaching out to him through little cracks, little scars, and he was just too stupid to take advantage of it.

Because the thing was, the man hadn’t felt like a stranger. Hadn’t felt like that at all. He’d felt like truth.

Ray shut off the spray, shaking the water out of his hair and trying to even out his breathing. It just wasn’t fair. This shouldn’t be his life. This shouldn’t be who he was. He was supposed to grow up to be a gallant knight, a daring scientist, a Jedi, and now…

Mop.

Pretend to laugh with coworkers.

Polish.

Toilets

Sigh.

Get yelled at by that new young exec, Jefferson or something.

Trash.

Coffee.

Toilets again.

Mop again… Ray blinked. That was different. Someone had forgotten to put their work station away. He leaned the mop against the wall and walked over to the open work station, still with its tools strewn across the desk. He looked down and his brain itched. _Dipole magnets_ a voice in his head supplied, and Ray wasn’t sure where it came from. His fingers twitched.

Ray thought about his brain going blank with the wiring. The crushing disappointment as the smoke hit him.

Ray thought about the stranger in the gym today. The look in his eyes and the feeling in Ray’s stomach, like they were headed for an unavoidable crash.

He thought about all the million missed opportunities of his life, and without even being able to say what he planned to do with them, he reached out and stuck the magnets in his pocket. After all, no one was going to check on Crazy Ray Palmer. And if he couldn’t take the life he wanted, maybe he could build it somehow.

\-----///-----

Pretty Boy’s mom’s house was more or less how Mick would have pictured it, even in the real world. Clean white walls, decorative art strewn throughout (though nothing worth anything, Mick noted), pictures of little-Heywood in every room, and a recently remodeled kitchen with brand new granite countertops to boot. Better than what Mick had had, even before the fire. Something he would’ve cased as a dumb teenager who didn’t know who to steal from yet. Honestly, of all this lot, Heywood had the least reason to be mad at him, living in this place. He even got two whole parents.

Heywood’s mom had been so happy to see her son had friends, she hadn’t even questioned what a janitor, a thug, and whatever Lance was supposed to be were visiting her deadbeat son. She’d smiled, practically cheered and clapped, and had cleared right out of the house after making them a platter of sandwiches.

And they were damn good sandwiches. Another point in Mick’s favor, really.

At first it was nice being in the house. Safe in a way Mick hadn’t felt in a long time, not since this whole fuckup started. No one had cared enough to keep tags on Nate – as the only one without even the smallest significant tie to the Legion of Doom, he was kind of useless to them. Well, Mick thought he was useless in general, but he wasn’t a bad guy. As long as he was out of the way, they were all satisfied. So no one knew where they were right now, and Mick was able to let out a breath he’d been holding in for months.

But then the girl’d left to go deal with the Legion, and Nate had driven his parents to go visit his aunt, just to get them out of harm’s way for a while, and suddenly Mick didn’t feel so safe anymore, because he was left alone with Ray. Which was the worst place for Mick to be.

Everyone else had been mad, but only Ray had been hurt. Everyone else Mick could’ve dealt with, but only Ray could really sucker punch him where it counted. Everyone else had aired their grievances to Mick all night, but only Ray had stopped after a few words. Watching and waiting for precisely this moment, Mick supposed.

“Haircut,” Mick said sharply, “you hit me again and I won’t let it go this time.” He spared a glance in Ray’s direction, where he was sitting in the corner of the room glaring at Mick like Mick’d killed his cat. Which, maybe he did. He didn’t know if Ray had a cat in the real world. But Mick figured he would’ve brought it up before if he did.

“Thought you said you deserved it.”

“The one. Not two. Never two.” Mick rubbed his jaw, the bruise tender to the touch and kind of sexy. “Never would’ve thought you’d have a harder hit than Pretty. You been working out in this world?”

“Here and there… I think you know that I visit the gym.”

Yeah. Whoops. Mick should’ve known that even as some dumb blue collar, Ray wasn’t going to forget about that little incident. Mick had thought about it every night, whether he wanted to or not. It had been hot and terrifying all at once. He’d been so good at keeping an eye on Haircut without getting too close, and then… he slipped up. He wasn’t supposed to do that.

Mick wondered if he could really call it an accident. If he hadn’t known what he was doing. Sometimes his body just moved on its own. Sometimes he just took what he wanted without even thinking about it.

Ray probably would probably agree, judging by that glare.

If looks could kill, well, Mick was glad they couldn’t. He’d seen Ray upset, seen him cry, seen him seethe, seen him bitterly regret… but he’d never seen him like this before. Wild. An animal in a trap. In any other situation, it would have been downright adorable, and Mick had to smile at that.

“You think this is funny?”

“Did I say that I did?”

“Well…” Ray seemed to think for a second. “Well, no, but you’re sure acting like it is. Which is maybe because you weren’t _psychologically tortured_ for months!”

Boy, Mick missed this guy.

“Hey, I know psychological torture, and I’d say you got off pretty light there, buddy.” Which had been intentional on Mick’s part. After Heywood, Raymond was the next lowest in priority. Mick didn’t think anyone had considered him a real threat. Not without his suit. Not without his money. So Mick was able to… pull some strings. Keep him safe. And nobody had to know.

“I was a janitor.”

“Good, honest work.”

“I was broke.”

“You always had a roof over your head.”

“I was an _idiot!_ ” Ray yelled, hands flying up in the air. He was still in his coveralls, still wearing that ridiculous hat. Backwards, like he was going out for varsity or something stupid. Sometimes, when Mick had caught sight of Ray in the halls of S.T.A.R. Labs before ducking out of the way, he’d thought about Ray blowing him while wearing that hat. Probably best not to bring that up.

“Had to keep you out of the way,” Mick shrugged. “Coulda been worse. Coulda been like the professor.” He thought he was making some reasonable points, but Ray wasn’t having it. Not even a little bit, which would’ve made Mick’s life real easier.

“You’re ignoring that even if I wasn’t at rock bottom, I was in my personal hell. _That_ ,” Ray said with a violent gesture towards where he thought the center was (he was wrong, Mick noted), “was my personal hell. Poor. Friendless. Stupid. Exactly that. And you…” Ray’s voice broke, just so slightly, just enough for Mick to hear it, and it felt like his head had just gotten rung like a bell. “You put me there. And I don’t understand how you could _do_ that to us.”

Mick didn’t answer. Just stayed watching Ray. Watched him sway slightly and rub at his eyes, clearly angry at the tears starting to form there. Because that was the real question Ray would have. No one else on the team doubted Mick’s motives, he was sure.

Some like Amaya might give him the benefit of the doubt. He missed his partner. Was willing to do anything to get him back. She knew what that was like. But the others. Oh, Mick Rory. Oh, Mick Rory he’s in it for the money. He’s in it for the fight. He’s in it to watch something burn. And the truth was? They weren’t totally wrong.

He didn’t really know what Ray thought anymore.

“Anyone ever tell you that I’m a bad man? Your buddy The Flash never told you that I used to be one of the bad guys? That I _am_ ,” Mick corrected, “one of the bad guys?”

“Don’t try that junk on me. I _know_ that’s not true.” Ray stood up, his eyes flashing. “You’ve done bad things, but you’ve proved to me time and time again that you’re not a bad person. Not when it counts. You’ve saved me.”

Mick looked Ray in the eye and wondered if they were thinking of the same thing. Cold concrete walls and the threat of Russian winter. Ray’s weight carried on his back. The day it all began, really. Or maybe Ray was thinking about one of the other times Mick had let his cards show. Japan? Camelot? The White House? There were far too many.

“And you want to know what was so different this time.”

“Yeah, I do.” Ah, Haircut. Ever the scientist. Always trying to understand what just wasn’t meant to be understood. Who cares why a flame burns as long as it’s hot? As long as it’s bright? But Ray’s eyes were earnest, his gaze pleading. Fuck. “Why’d you leave me, Mick?”

Fuck.

“Thought this was about the team.”

“I guess I thought I was different.” Ray said it so plainly, so openly. He thought he was different. The truth was, he was. He was different.

And that had nearly killed Mick, time and time again.

“Was it Snart? Was he really the deciding factor? I…” Ray rubbed a hand over his face. “Look, not that I’m taking _any_ blame for this, but I tried to give you the space I thought you wanted. I know we…” He flushed, looked down, “we stopped, you know, sleeping, um, together, after a while, and you seemed to be talking about Snart and I thought. Oh, delayed mourning process. Delayed reaction. Give him space. Don’t press.” Ray looked up. “Should I have pressed?”

They were so close now, practically toe to toe. Ray had wandered across the room as he spoke – a habit Mick knew he had, and would sometimes take advantage of back then. He used to watch Ray dawdle from one side of his bunk to the other as he rambled on about this project or that, seemingly completely unaware that he was doing it. Mick would wait for the perfect moment and then pounce, pin him down, shut him up.

And then, Ray was right. They had stopped doing that. Mick had stopped doing that. Because… because of so many things. Because Snart was gone but he was still in Mick’s head (there were a million things still in Mick’s head and none of it felt safe or good or _Mick_ ). Because Nate was there and he always seemed to get in the way. Because things were changing, and Mick was reaching a breaking point.

He could feel his old self draining, he could feel something new taking root in his chest. And it was all too much, and it was all too fast, and he could only bend so far until he broke. And Mick Rory was a man who didn’t break.

“I make my own decisions,” Mick said with a shrug, “and in the end, I looked out for me and mine.” Or at least Snart should have been me and mine. He should have, god dammit.

“And neither I, nor the team, were included in that.” Ray was hurt, and this close Mick could almost feel it wash over him. Christ, this kid was going to be the death of him one day.

“Last I checked, a team has your back. A team doesn’t treat you like a thug. A team trusts you not to do things like destroy the universe. So, no, you weren’t.”

“To be fair,” Ray said, “you did end up destroying the universe.”

“…Only because you all tempted me to.”

“I’m kind of viewing it as a chicken and egg thing here. We still end up with an omelette.”

“Who are you calling a chicken?”

And now this felt too normal, too comfortable. This is the way they used to talk… before… well… everything. Not always necessarily understanding each other, but always feeling each other. Mick could feel Ray leaning into it, leaning into him.

“I think only a coward wouldn’t have said ‘I’m sorry’ by now,” Ray said, his voice low and too close to Mick’s ear. “But that’s what you were going to say in the gym that day, weren’t you. You were sorry. You saw me, and you were sorry.” So close their heat was the same, their air was the same.

“Hmph.”

Mick kissed him then, kissed him good and hard like he’d wanted to in the gym. Like he’d wanted to as soon as Ray’s fist connected with his jaw. Like he’d wanted to for a long, long time.

And Ray kissed back, with desperation and heat and anger and a million other emotions Mick didn’t really care about right now because Ray was solid and hot in his hands and he was wearing that stupid hat and his teeth were pulling on Mick’s bottom lip and his hands were slipping under Mick’s shirt. He acted like such a nerd sometimes that Mick forgot how good he was at this.

Mick’s back hit the wall before he realized it, and it was like Mick was being devoured. He was being taken apart a piece at a time, just thoroughly ripped open. And it was exactly what he wanted. Exactly what he needed. Ray’s mouth so wet and his wandering hands never able to stay still and his half-lidded eyes that were just so _wanting._

“I wanted to do this so bad at the gym,” Ray panted, “and I didn’t even understand _why._ ”

“Don’t worry, Haircut, that’s just my natural effect.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Ray was kissing his neck now, and Mick truly hated how good it felt. His hands were creeping into the coveralls tied off around Ray’s waist, feeling skin he’d denied himself for a long time, and he heard Ray moan into his neck before leaning up to kiss him again and that pit of desire in his chest was growing and…

“Hey, I’m back!”

The door shut upstairs and Ray sprang away from him like a jack rabbit, hands fixing hair and tugging at clothes, although it’s not like he came in looking particularly put together. He was a janitor, after all. Mick stayed leaning against the wall, and wondered how even in an alternate universe that damn Pretty Boy could still get in his way. Honestly, fuck that guy.

“Kiss me all you want, I’m still not forgiving you until you say you’re sorry,” Ray hissed, “and, honestly? Maybe not even then.”

He would though, Mick knew that, because that’s the type of person Ray was. He was kind. And for whatever terrible reason, he was kind to Mick.

And because of that, Mick might even apologize when this was all over.

Maybe.

\-----///-----

The day was saved, for now. The Legion was returned to whence they came, except for Thawne who Ray really hoped was just dead. Snart was back in his own timeline, on his path to becoming a hero and then… dying, and that meant Ray would probably find Mick in his bunk with several beer cans scattered on the floor. Perfect time to go have a serious conversation.

It ended up being only one can on the floor. Ray had caught him early.

“Hey,” he said, letting the door slide closed behind him. Mick looked up at him from the floor, and seemed to actually regard Ray seriously for a second before blowing out a big sigh.

“Guess it’s about that time.” He drained the beer in his hand and threw it on the floor, and Ray waited patiently because he didn’t know what else to do. “I don’t need you to talk to me about Snart.”

“No?”

“No,” Mick shook his head, “I dropped him off. I feel good about it. We’re going to become good guys. Get pulled onto this wreck of a spaceship. Meet you idiots. Save a bunch of famous dead people. I’m real proud.”

“Ah-huh.”

“I feel good.”

“Which is why you’re sitting on the floor chugging beers like they’re water,” Ray observed, casting a glance to the four beers left in the case. Mick shrugged and grabbed another one. Ray didn’t stop him, just grabbed one himself and plopped down next to Mick. He pulled the tab and tapped it against Mick’s, who didn’t look particularly surprised. He looked approving, which was as close as Ray thought he could get to thankful.

“To partners,” Mick said, and then he took a long, deep pull. Ray sipped at his, eyes on the line of Mick’s throat, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, his pulse strong. He counted the beats. 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4. Blood rushing past. Alive. Alive. Ray swallowed and took another sip.

It wasn’t even good beer.

They sat there in silence on the floor, their shoulders almost touching but not quite. Ray could feel the heat of Mick’s body, the man practically a furnace even without the heat gun. He knew that if he moved his hand a little bit to the right, he could grab Mick’s. It would be really easy and Mick might even let him, after the day they had.

He took another sip. Mick opened another can, but he wasn’t guzzling it anymore, just keeping pace with Ray. The ship felt different somehow, as if it was actually from the other timeline somehow. The metal of the wall was too cold at Ray’s back, the ceiling felt too high, the lights too bright. It was all wrong.

He couldn’t really breathe.

“Fuck, we nearly did it this time.” Mick wasn’t looking at him, just talking into space. Ray closed his eyes only to open them again a second later. It didn’t make it better.  The room was still spinning. “All that parallel dimension shit.”

“Ah-huh.” Ray took another sip. The beer was too warm, and going down wrong. He choked back a cough.

“One benefit to being a good guy, though. You all seem to win more often than not. Not really fair if you ask me, but I’ll take it.”

“Yup.” Ray’s hands were shaking, he had to put the can down. It was still half-full.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t… he couldn’t breathe…

“I thought you came in here to talk as much as you normally do. What’s the matter with you?” Mick finally looked at him, and Ray didn’t know what he saw but Mick’s eyes widened. Ra felt flushed and cold all at once, a full-body shiver quaking through his body. “Haircut?”

That was Mick’s hand, big and rough on his shoulder, another on his jaw, turning his head up probably so Mick could look into his eyes to see if he had a concussion. That was always his go-to move, always the first thing he looked for after a mission. Ray’s pretty sure it started as an excuse to touch him back in the old days, back when they started this whole thing, but later on it became a reassurance between the two of them.

“Mick, I…” Ray swallowed again, mouth dry, “I saw you die.” The words sounded distant in his ears. They echoed,  _die die die_. His vision was starting to blur but he could see understanding come over Mick’s face. The hand on his shoulder tightened, while the one on his jaw became softer, more tender.

“It wasn’t me. I’m still kicking. I don’t think ghosts drink beer,” Mick tried to laugh but Ray wouldn’t let him, just kept shaking his head.

“No, no, _I saw you die_ , and even if it wasn’t you it _was_ you, which I realize doesn’t make any sense but, Mick…” Ray knew he sounded hysterical, but he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t tamp down the words. He never could. He reached up and put his hand on Mick’s, rubbed his thumb across the back because it was warm and alive and he needed to feel that. “I think it really freaked me out.”

“No shit.” Mick rolled his eyes fondly, and he pulled Ray into him – finally, the long overdue hug. It was the most intimate physical contact they’d had in… hell, probably a few months. Ray wasn’t totally sure why this was happening so easily, what Mick had been thinking that made him be so… nice, but it was causing tears to prick at his eyes. He took a few deep breaths, willing his body to calm down. Mick was still holding him close, still not saying anything, just waiting for Ray to stop shaking.

It took a few minutes.

“Sorry,” Ray sat up and rubbed at his eyes which were leaking all over Mick’s shirt. Mick was still staring at him with an inscrutable gaze. “Sorry, I didn’t really mean to get weird like that, I just wanted to make sure you were okay when I came in here but I think… I think it really just hit me. Sitting next to you like that. I almost lost you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that.” Ray almost asked if it was about Snart, because, well, obviously Snart, but then Mick kept talking. “I didn’t exactly like the looks that other me was giving you, but when I realized… y’know, why he was giving them to you instead of to his own Ray.” Mick stopped for a second. “Makes a guy think.”

“About what?” Ray asked, because after that curveball he didn’t think he could tell you what Mick was thinking for all the money in the world. The one guy who was supposed to be predictable in Ray’s life had blown him out of the water twice today. Of course one of those times was because he’d had a hole blasted through his chest but you know almost the same effect really. Just in opposite directions. 

Mick rolled his eyes, and for a second it didn’t look like he was going to say it, like he was actually physically fighting himself to get the words out, cheeks red and mouth twisted into a scowl. Ray leaned closer, tangled his fingers with Mick’s. One last shiver ran through Ray’s body, and Mick relaxed a bit.

“Hell, Haircut. Maybe we… wasted time. You know.”

“You mean you avoiding me.” Which had hurt, a lot, even if Ray hadn’t said anything. One day they’re kissing like teenagers in Ray’s bed and the next… like a switch had flipped, he couldn’t get more than two seconds alone with Mick and then Stein had told him something about Snart and Ray had thought…

“And you not exactly chasing after me,” Mick muttered. Well, Ray hadn’t felt very welcomed, and then there was Nate and Amaya who always seemed to have time for him, and Ray had just. Stopped. Let himself stop. It had been a little too much for his heart to carry on top of everything else.

Mistake.

They had made mistakes.

So basically a regular day in the life of a legend.

“I wonder if our other selves had…” Ray took a deep breath, held it in, let it out. “I wonder if they knew they had wasted so much time before they…”

“Died horribly,” Mick finished. That one forced a chuckle from Ray, he couldn’t help it. “And kinda stupidly, if you ask me.”

“Hey, we don’t know how I died,” Ray pointed out.

“Yeah, I’m betting it wasn’t great,” Mick said, but his arms tightened around Ray.                                                                                                               

“No,” Ray looked up at Mick, “it probably wasn’t.” He leaned up and kissed Mick quickly, catching his mouth a little bit to the side and pulling away before Mick could respond. “So we shouldn’t waste any more time, huh?”

“And you probably shouldn’t go dying on me,” Mick said, before hoisting Ray back into a kiss. It was sweeter than Ray remembered kissing Mick to be, and also hungrier which was saying something. Barely five seconds had passed before they were open-mouthed and breathing hard, Mick’s hands skimming up and down Ray’s back before finding their way into his hair.

They sank down to the floor without Ray even really noticing it, just one moment he was on his knees kissing Mick and the next thing he knew he was on his back on the ground with Mick sucking a bruise into his collar bone. Before, Ray might’ve said something about ‘showing’ and ‘the team’, but he couldn’t bring himself to at the moment, each mark a vibrant if slightly embarrassing reminder that Mick was alive and well and present.

“I think I’d rather do this on your bed?” Ray said when Mick began reaching for his belt, and even though Mick grumbled Ray knew he couldn’t fault the logic, and to the (far too small) bed they went. Ray turned his head to the side and inhaled deeply, just savoring the smell of Mick for a moment. He looked up when he realized he wasn’t being completely ravaged.

Mick was staring at him, brow furrowed, lips pursed.

“What?”

“Just wanna make sure you’re not shaking or anything like that anymore. I know I’m not always the greatest guy, but I don’t wanna fuck someone who’s still half in shock.” Ray stared at Mick, waiting for him to laugh and roll his eyes and get on with it, but he stood still and waited for Ray’s response.

“Ever the romantic…” Ray sat up and put his hands on Mick’s arms, thumbs moving slowly along his skin. “I’m not going to say that either of us are the most emotionally healthy people at the moment, but I really don’t think we ever were. You particularly.”

“Watch it.”

“And I think…” Ray paused, considering his words. The thing with Mick was that one wrong step could get you shoved out the door, and you never really knew when it was coming. “I think we’re both trying. Right? We’re both trying. So… for good or for bad, we’re what we’ve got. And I’m happy about that. I really am.”

“Alright,” Mick said, which Ray knew meant ‘me too,’ because the next thing he knew he was being pinned down to the bed, kissed like his life depended on it, and removed of his pants. He had forgotten how good Mick was at this, but he was reminded pretty quickly when Mick had his tongue down Ray’s throat and Ray’s dick in his hands.

“Oh my god,” Ray said, eyes closing against his will because oh, god, this was all too much. Way too much feeling, every nerve firing on full blast.

It had been. Way too long.

He could feel Mick hard against his hip, so it didn’t take a genius like Ray to figure out what to do next, his hands already unzipping Mick’s jeans. They worked well like this, like a team. Even though the emotional core between them had never been fully stabilized, the sex was always good.

Mick’s kisses were always hot, always wanting, always ready to strip Ray bare. Ray could only hope he gave as good as he got, but judging by the look on Mick’s face right now which was two parts ecstasy and one part bewilderment he figured he was doing an okay job.

Ray knew he was close, and he could feel it in Mick from the way his hand tightened, the way his shoulders tensed, so he upped the tempo, changed his grip just a little bit, just enough to…

“Ray, I’m…” Mick choked out, spilling hot over Ray’s hand. And then it was all over. Stars in his eyes and a mess on Mick’s bedsheets. Ray was done. Spent.

“…I know you told me not to die, but I think you just killed me anyway.”

“Funny…” Mick barely got the word out before he just collapsed on top of Ray. Which wasn’t super comfortable, but it was a weight Ray was more than willing to live with.

They lay there for five minutes. Ten. The bed was gross now, and Ray knew the team would be wondering where they were – they did have a tiny bit of a schedule. But Mick was (unconsciously?) nuzzling into his hair, and Ray didn’t think his legs would hold him up if he tried. And, anyway, it was a time machine. No matter what Sarah or Rip said, they technically had all the time in the world.

“I’m sorry.” The words were so soft that Ray wasn’t even sure he really heard them. He felt them, really, rumbling in Mick’s chest.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

Fifteen minutes. Twenty. They had shifted slightly, Mick more up against the edge of the wall, and arm slung possessively around Ray’s waist. Ray stared at his face, memorizing every line and every angle for the millionth time even though it felt like the first, and then he let his gaze wandered around the tiny room, which no longer felt like it was torn from another dimension. Same old ceiling. Same old walls. Same old Mick. Same old…

“Did your rat just watch us have sex?”

“Hmm… doubt he was watching, but you dug that hole yourself when you gave me Axel.” Mick sounded way less concerned than Ray was, and indeed hadn’t even opened his eyes. Just pulled Ray a little closer.

“I didn’t think you’d actually keep him,” Ray said. The gift had been a bit of a test. It was during their off-period and Ray… well. He’d wanted to see how far he could go. How far Mick would go, even if they weren’t talking. Not about the important stuff at least.

“Well, little guy was a gift from you. Reminded me of you, too. Cute and neurotic. Won’t stop spinning that damn wheel.” Apparently pretty far.

Ray turned away from the rat and into Mick who had opened his eyes just slightly. They stared at each other, for once with complete understanding, knees knocking together and cold toes sticking out. And Ray was warm and comfortable. Happy and at peace. He was loved, he thought. Maybe. Or something close to it. Something strong and growing and taking root in them both. And that was good. That was good for now.

He closed his eyes.

Another ten minutes.

The team could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> look! okay! i never was going to write for this fandom and then no one was giving me the fic i needed after that finale and i was like okay i guess i have to be the change you want to see in the world so here i am. let's all grow from this.
> 
> edit: fixed mistakes, added a couple extra lines here and there


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